


In The Days Before November

by Archer973



Series: Gemverse [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer973/pseuds/Archer973
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding out Sara was pregnant was just the beginning. Now Sara, Leonard, and Mick have to get through all the cravings, pains, sorrows, and joys that come with bringing another person into this world, and all the days leading up to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bump

**Author's Note:**

> Are you ready for weird food cravings, nightmares, foot rubs, and back pain? Because this is the first of seven chapters about our very pregnant Sara Lance and her loving family of Rogues who are just trying to survive this pregnancy with their nerves (and heads) intact

“Hey Blondie, you want some – Woah.” Mick stopped short. Sara was standing in the living room with her shirt pulled up, looking down at her stomach. The usually flat, toned muscle was pushed outwards in a small, but very definite, bump.

“Is that…?” Mick trailed off, not even sure what he was going to ask. Sara nodded, not looking up, her eyes still fixed on the small, round stretch of skin. Hesitantly, she put a hand on it, letting out a little huff of air, as if surprised that it was real.

“Well, shit,” Mick murmured, finding himself grinning, though he had no idea why. “I mean, it’s one thing to see a stick with lines, but this… Shit, you’re pregnant.” Sara laughed, looking up at him, a huge smile stretched across her face.

“I am,” she replied, sounding slightly dazed. “I really am. Mick, there’s… there’s a baby in there, a little, tiny person _growing_ inside me. C’mere, you gotta feel it!” Sara reached out a hand and Mick went willingly, knowing better than to argue with Sara when she was in a mood like this, almost drunk on euphoria. She took his large, callused hand in hers and pressed it against her smooth, soft skin.

It was harder than he was expecting, firm against his hand, which almost covered the bump in its entirety. There was nothing really different about touching this than touching any other body part, but Mick felt that same joy that had Sara’s smile stretched so wide, that primal instinct to celebrate a new life growing in the pack.

“Len’s gonna flip when he sees,” Mick said, grinning at Sara, hand still resting on the small baby bump. “Gonna make all that puking worth it.”

“Ugh, don’t even say that word, I don’t wanna think about it,” Sara retorted, scrunching up her face in distaste, though there was still a smile tucked in the corner of her eyes. “Will… Do you think he’s gonna be happy, Mick? Like really, honestly happy?”

“Hell, Blondie, I’m happy and it’s not even my freakin’ kid!” Mick replied, grinning at Sara, then sobering slightly as he saw the honest worry in her eyes. “Seriously, Sara, he’s been stealing parenting books and casing baby stores for the last three months. He may have panicked a little in the beginning, but he’s all in now and he’s gonna be beaming like a little school girl when he sees you like this, I promise.”

“Thanks, Mick,” Sara whispered, her eyes suddenly suspiciously misty, throwing her arms around the larger man and hugging him tight. Mick froze for a second, an old habit Sara was slowly weaning him out of, then returned the embrace, though he didn’t squeeze as hard at normal, for he could feel the small bump pressing against his stomach and once more, Mick Rory couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.


	2. Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick gets a call in the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is... omg Mick you little shit

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

Mick groaned, rolling over in bed and grabbing the shrieking phone, jamming the talk button aggressively.

“What?!”

“Mick, oh thank god.” Mick shot straight up in bed, all the sleep gone from his head.

“Leonard?”

“Mick, I need you to do something for me. Something important. More important than the red wire in Venice or the turtle in Montreal. Do you understand?”

“Fuck, Len, what is it?” Mick demanded, throwing back the covers, one hand reaching for his pants while his eyes searched the dark room frantically for his shoes. “Are you okay? Is Sara okay? Is it the baby?”

“I’m okay, but I don’t know for how much longer.”

“What do you need me to do?” Mick asked, switching completely into heist mode, turning off all thoughts, all emotions, everything, just waiting for his partner to tell him what was needed, though is the back of his mind he was planning a painful death for whoever had dared lay a hand on Len or Sara.

“I need you to go down to 76th street and get ten, do you hear me, _ten_ slices of tiramisu from Dolci D’oro.”

Mick grunted, shoving his feet in his boots and going for his heat gun on the bench. Then…

“Wait… What?”

“Tiramisu, Mick! Sara’s craving it, she’s been pacing around the house for the last forty minutes, opening and closing cabinets, flipping a _knife_ back and forth in her hand. She refuses to let me go get some, saying she’ll find something else to eat, but – _Are you laughing, you asshole?!_ ”

Unable to keep it in any longer, Mick let out a howl of laughter, bending nearly double and slapping his thigh. He could hear Leonard cursing him, but he didn’t care, just kept pounding on his leg and laughing until there were tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

“Afraid your tiny, pregnant girlfriend is gonna eat you, Lenny?” he asked when he finally had enough breath to speak, still chuckling as he wiped at the corner of his eyes.

“The woman was trained by the League of Assassins, jackass,” Leonard replied. “I have no idea what the hell she’s going to do if she doesn’t get those damn desserts. Please, Mick, I am begging you, literally begging right now. I will pay you, I’ll steal you that damn sapphire you liked so much in New York, anything, just get me some of those fucking pastries as quick as you can.”

“Alright, Christ, calm down,” Mick said, still chortling slightly. “I’ll get you you’re damn pastries, Snart.”

“Thank you,” Leonard replied with more feeling than Mick had ever heard him put into those two words. “And hurry.” Then he hung up.

“Oh I’ll hurry alright,” Mick said to himself, toeing off his boots and sitting back down on his bed, grinning as he scrolled through his phone. “Just you watch.”

 

_Knock knock_

_Oh thank god_ , Leonard thought, leaping to his feet and practically pouncing on the door. “Damn, that was fa– ” He froze.

“Someone order tiramisu?” Barry asked cheerfully, holding up a brown bag.


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is not always peace in sleep

_Sword flashing in the dark, strike, block, strike again, sharp, silver, cut, blood, red, black._

_All I can see is a mask. Blank, faceless. Strike, strike, block, spin, hit. Good. They stagger. Kick, strike. Aim for the knee. They're down. Final blow. Feels so good, sinking my blade into their chest. Blood everywhere. Red. Red. Safe. My baby’s safe. Who attacked?_

_Grab mask. Pull away. No. No! NO! My baby. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to hurt my baby. Please, please no! I didn’t mean to, no –_

“Sara.”

_My baby, please, please, please, please not my baby, please…_

“Sara!”

_Please, no, no, no, nonononononononononono_

“SARA!”

Sara jerked awake, hand shooting out and grabbing her assailant by the throat. No one was going to hurt her baby, not while she was still breathing, she would kill them, kill them all, send them to the dark, to the Pit…

“Easy, Blondie, easy!” Another pair of hands on her, these ones larger. Rough. The hands of a fighter. A threat. But she couldn’t let go of the other. Her baby, she had to protect her baby…

“It’s okay, Sara, you’re safe, you’re safe, it’s us, it’s Mick and Len.” Len. Mick. She knew those names. Blue, heat, whiskey, warm, good, safe, home. Len. Leonard. Leonard Snart. Mick Rory. They were good, safe, home.

Slowly the fog faded. Sara blinked, chasing away the red, letting the world come back into focus. She was on the couch. She could see Leonard in front of her. His face was red. He had a hand around his throat. It was her hand…

Sara gasped, jerking away. Leonard took a deep gulp of air, though he tried to disguise it, resisting the urge to rub his abused throat. Sara shrank back, tears coming to her eyes, but in doing so she pressed into the large, warm bulk that could only be Mick.

“It’s okay, Sara, easy, you’re okay,” he murmured as he felt her flinch, his voice rumbling out of his chest and into her spine, a familiar, comforting buzz. He laid his hands gently on her shoulders, not squeezing, but there.

“Len…” She trailed off, wanting to reach for him, but unable to tear her eyes away from the rapidly purpling bruises that were blossoming in the exact shape of her fingers around his neck.

“I’m okay,” he assured her, his voice slightly hoarse, reaching forward and wrapping his fingers tightly around hers, smiling gently. “I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re all okay.”

“The baby…”

“The munchkin’s fine,” Mick said firmly, giving Sara’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It was just a dream.” Sara let out a choked sob, reaching up and gripping Mick’s hand in hers, the other still wrapping tightly in Leonard’s.

“I killed them,” she whispered, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. “Our baby… Len, I killed our baby.” She started to sob, curling in on herself, though both men refused to relinquish their holds on her hands.

“It was a dream, Sara,” Leonard said firmly, using his free hand to lift her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “A nightmare. Our baby is safe. No one had hurt them, and no one ever will. I promise. You’re safe, Sara. Both you and the baby are _safe_. We’re here and we’re never going to let anything happen to either one of you.”

Still shaking, Sara leaned forward, burying her face in Leonard’s shoulder. Mick tried to let go of her hand, tried to give the couple a little space, but Sara refused, clinging to his hand with desperate strength.

Mick hung back awkwardly, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Len looked up at him and wordlessly opened his free hand, a silent invitation. Hesitantly Mick moved from his partial crouch on the floor up onto the couch. He looked at Leonard one more time, seeking… what? Confirmation? Assurance? Permission?

Leonard, seeing his hesitation, nodded minutely. It was all Mick needed. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, arms going completely around Sara and almost all the way around Leonard as well, bracketing the younger woman between them.

Once more Mick was struck by how small Sara was. He forgot is most of the time, but now, feeling her small form shaking between them, he was overcome by a sudden surge of protectiveness.

He knew something of the demons that lived in the dark corners of your mind, whispering to you. He also knew that he couldn’t fight them for Sara, not that she needed him to. But he’d be damned if he didn’t give her a safe harbor in which to rest between battles. Just because she was the only one who could fight them didn’t mean that she had to be alone.

 

“Mick?”

Mick jerked awake, easily roused from his light doze by the sound of Sara’s voice. Leonard had carried her to bed hours ago, after she had cried herself into exhaustion between them. But here she was, standing in the living room, clad only in one of Leonard’s old t-shirts, which stretched slightly over the growing bulge of her stomach, and a pair of shorts that fell almost to her knees.

“Hey, Blondie,” Mick murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You okay?” Sara nodded, half-shrugging, as if she didn’t want to say no, but couldn’t say yes either.

“Can I sit?” she asked, nodding towards the couch that Mick was sprawled across, legs handing off the end as it was far too small to comfortably accommodate his large frame.

“Of course,” Mick replied, hastily sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, almost groaning at the crick in his neck. They really needed a bigger couch, dammit.

Sara smiled slightly at him and sat slowly down onto the vacated cushions, still unused to the extra weight she was carrying around. Mick opened his mouth, then realized he had no idea what to say. But Sara did.

“I need to ask you for a favor, Mick.”

“Anything,” Mick replied immediately, half starting to rise, eager to finally be useful, actually, physically useful. Leonard was the one who was good with the mind stuff. Mick was more of a go out and punch something kind of guy. “You need food? Soda? Ice cream? Olives? Heat for your back? A book, a magazine? Some -”

“No, not that kind of favor,” Sara interrupted, actually smiling this time, reaching out a hand and pulling him gently back into his seat. “It’s… it’s more of a promise that I need you to make.”

“What kind of promise?” Mick asked, slightly worried. He wasn’t good with promises, never had been. Actions spoke louder than words, always. But for Sara… for Sara, he would try.

“Mick, this baby means everything to me. And if I ever hurt it –”

“You won’t.” Sara smiled slightly at the conviction in Mick’s voice.

“I won’t. But the blood lust… Mick, I need you to _promise_ me, if I ever start to lose it, if I ever put this baby in danger, you’ll stop me. Permanently.”

“Sara –”

“No, Mick, listen to me,” Sara insisted, reaching forward and taking his hand, forcing him to look at her. “I _need_ this. I need you to promise. Because Leonard… he loves me. He’d hesitate. You won’t. I need to know, Mick, that you won’t let anything, _anything_ hurt this baby. That includes me. _Promise me_ , Mick.”

Mick looked at Sara, looked at her and saw not a woman, but a warrior, asking of him the highest and most terrible promise that can be exchanged between two people: a promise of death, should one cease to be themselves. He had never asked if of anyone, had never been brave enough. But bravery had never been Sara Lance’s problem.

“I promise.”

Sara was right. Leonard would hesitate. He loved her and that emotion would make the trigger stick, make his aim clouded by tears.

But she was also wrong. Because Mick would hesitate too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd day I'm sorry, but I'm really really not


End file.
